


Mrs Holmes

by Melster



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Sherlolly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2019-10-10 18:59:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 15
Words: 17,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17431697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melster/pseuds/Melster
Summary: Waking up from a horrible car accident Sherlock's memories are rewritten. 2 years of his life that he remembers in detail never happened, including being married to someone close to him. Coping with what was real or not is a new challenge Sherlock never had to deal with before.





	1. Chapter 1

His eyes opened slowly, blinking a little as the brightness of the light above him burned his eyes. Eyes scrunched shut as he couldn’t cope with the light for the moment. Attempting one more time, opening his eyes and letting himself blink a few times, his vision blurred and his head feeling heavy.

“He’s waking up, get a doctor!” 

The sudden male voice confused him, a man came into vision, his eyes still struggling to focus but from the outline, he could see the basics. Ashy blonde hair, clearly around the age of 40. He was checking him over, hands on his cheek gently tapping his cheek trying to get him to focus on the ashy blonde. 

“Sherlock? Sherlock, can you hear me?” 

Sherlock went to speak but wasn’t quite able to let words out just yet. The ashy blonde pulls back and a doctor came rushing in, shining a light into his eyes and checking his charts. Sherlock attempted to speak, low slurred noises coming out his mouth, blinking heavily a few more times before he fell back asleep, clearly dosed up on painkillers. 

 

He woke again, this time much smoother. The lights where dimmed, and it was darker than when he woke up before. Taking a deep breath, he then noticed he was wearing an oxygen mask to help steady his breathing. His eyes less blurry now not having the strain of the bright light. Looking around he saw his room was empty, that’s when he realised, he was in a hospital bed. His throat was dry, and his head was throbbing a little bit. Looking around he saw some water in a jug and an unused plastic cup. He went to reach for it, groaning in pain as he struggled to reach the water. 

Just as he was about to move out of bed to try and reach the water more his door opened, a man rushed over and gently pushed Sherlock to lay back against the bed.  
“Hey, let me help you, don’t hurt yourself” 

It was the same voice as before, now he was a bit more conscious he recognised the voice. It was John. Looking up he saw his flatmates face, he looked tired, clearly been sleeping here for at least a week. What on earth had happened? 

John poured him some water then handed it to Sherlock. The detective pulled off his oxygen mask and took the water sipping it. The cold liquid felt like heaven going down his dry sore throat, clearly had a tube lodged in there at some point. This meant Sherlock had been in a critical position, almost death situation. After taking a few more sips he looked back up at his friend who was watching him curiously. 

“How are you feeling?”

John looked concerned, more concerned than just a friend seeing their friend in a hospital bed, he obviously knew what had happened and how bad the damage it. 

“S-sore…”

Sherlock whispers hoarsely, the drank some more water, soothing his throat some more so he could talk more.

“Do you know who you are?”

Sherlocked looked up at Johns question clearly confused by it, what had happened he must have hit his head pretty hard causing John to worry his memory is gone. 

“Yes,”  
Sherlock cleared his throat, sipping more water. 

“I’m Sherlock Holmes, 37, consulting detective. You are John Watson, my friend.”

John nodded, he seemed relieved that Sherlock seemed to have his memory, well from what he can see. John sat down in the chair he clearly had made his place of living for the past few weeks, or maybe just a week. 

“Do you remember what happened?” 

“No…”

Sherlock sounded unsure, his voice trailed off and he focused on trying to think of his last memory. He couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary from what was his normal daily routine. He suddenly smiled when he started to think about his wife. Sherlock thought he would never settle down, but this woman properly swept him off his feet and now he was a dedicated husband. 

“Where is Mia?” 

That caught John’s attention, leaning forward he looked at Sherlock with confusion in his eyes. 

“Who is Mia?” 

Sherlock looked at him amused and laughed a little, his throat still a little sore.

“My wife Mia, you were the best man at our wedding, John how don’t you remember, was only a year ago,” 

Sherlock explained with a smile on his face, just thinking about seeing her made him feel a bit better, he went to look at his hand, no ring, well he knew they took stuff like that off when doing scans, so the doctors must have his ring somewhere safe. 

“Is she at home?”

John was baffled, staring at his friend who very much convinced he was married to a woman called Mia. He didn’t know how to break it to him, he seemed so content by the fact he had this life. 

“Sherlock you had a horrible accident. You got into a taxi and the cab got hit by a delivery lolly. The cab rolled over 4 times. You had a horrible head injury; the doctors are concerned you’ve lost your memories. You were in a coma for 2 weeks”

John started to explain to Sherlock hoping he understood what John was trying to say to his friend, trying to tell him that Mia wasn’t real, that Sherlock wasn’t married. 

“Okay, but my memory is fine John, my head hurts a bit but I’m sure that just bruising, so where is Mia? I know she had a big meeting, I guess just before my accident.” 

Sherlock let out a long sigh which just made him feel dizzy, he rested his head back against his pillow, John watching his friend worried about how he will react when he finds out he doesn’t have a wife or even know someone called Mia. John decided to keep his friend calm and play along, just for a little bit.

“I’m sure she will be here in a bit Sherl, why don’t you get some more rest?”

With that comment, Sherlock let out a small agreeing hum allowing his eyes to fall shut and fall into a deep sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

“What else can’t he remember or made up?” 

Mycroft’s voice was quiet, trying to keep the conversation he was having with John to a minimum, he knew his brother, one mention of his name he could pull himself out of a comma. John sighed as he leaned back in his chair, sipping his coffee, they weren’t even helping any more, didn’t matter how much coffee he had he felt tired. 

“Far as I know, there isn’t anything else. He believes he has a wife.” 

Sherlock started to stir, keeping quiet as he did want to listen in on the rest of the conversation, although he clearly wasn’t being as quiet as he thought as when he opened his eyes Mycroft was above him looking concerned. Sherlock groaned and moved to sit up a little. 

“Gained weight?” 

The elder Holmes let the comment slide, for now, he’d get his brotherly revenge another time, but right now he needed his brother to be getting better and soon. 

“Mummy will be here in about an hour, she has been visiting most days.” 

“Right… John, why are you still here?”

Sherlock glanced at his friend who just sat straight now, his defenses going up as he saw the normal, disrespectful self from the consulting detective. 

“Why wouldn’t I be here?” 

“Because you have Rosie.”

John nodded firmly standing up but not leaving, he stared at the window before looking over at his friend once more, clearly about to make some sort of dramatic statement but got interrupted by the doctor walking in. Sherlock’s eyes lingered on John before moving to pay brief attention to the doctor who was checking him over. 

“So, Sherlock, how do you feel?” 

“Fine, can I go home now?”

“Sherlock!”

Mycroft snapped at his brother.

“Fine, can I go home now please?”

Sherlock’s sarcasm making Mycroft groan with annoyance, running a hand over his own face. 

“Can’t go home yet, your emergency contact is John Watson, so after a few more tests, if they come back all good, you’ll be going home with him.”

“No, I don’t think so, I’ll be going home with my wife.” 

The doctor looked down at Sherlock’s chart once more frowning as he said that.

“Mr. Holmes, there is no Mrs. Holmes on your records.”

“Well clearly, I forgot to swap it around, John can sign me out and I’ll go home with my wife, understood?” 

Sherlock’s doctor gave him another look than a brief discrete glance at John who just nodded. 

“Of course, Mr. Holmes.” 

With that the room fell silent, Sherlock’s doctor continuing to check him over and writing down what tests he will be needing next before they could even think about letting him out. John sat back down and Mycroft moved to lean against the wall monitoring the doctor as he adjusted Sherlock’s drip, making sure the doctor didn’t have an ulterior motive to harm his brother. 

Just as the room became uncomfortably quiet Molly popped her head in, her nervous coy smile playing on her lips as she poked her head on. 

“Hello, is this a good time to visit?”

Sherlock’s head instantly went up hearing her voice, his heart monitor quickened just a little as he saw her. He noticeably smiled which caused John to frown when he saw the change in Sherlock’s attitude instantly. 

“No, actually Miss Hooper we would rather you – “

“Mycroft what is wrong with you? Yes, come in, please. Are you okay? How have you been coping?” 

Sherlock scolded Mycroft for not letting her in, getting mixed messages Molly decided to ignore Mycroft and step in to see Sherlock. She had seen him once during his coma state, unable to sit and watch him, breaking her heart. Pulling at her sleeves as she entered the room and went over to the other side of Sherlock.

“Yes, I mean, okay, just keeping busy.” 

Molly stumbled for words, peaking over the doctor's arm to take a quick glance at his chart, seeing that he was doing okay, other than the, ‘remade memories’, written on his chart. Sherlock instantly reached out and grabbed her hand which startled her but didn’t pull away. Had the accident made him more appreciative of what he had? 

“Of course, you look really well, I’m sorry I put you through this, I’ll make it up to you I promise.” 

Now everyone in the room was confused, Mycroft had even stopped texting to focus on his brother being affectionate towards this woman, John had his mouth hanging open with a confused discomfort face on him, even the doctor was giving Sherlock a look suggesting the detective had gone crazy. Molly trying to piece together what was happening, her mouth moving a little but no words coming out. 

“Mia are you okay?”

Sherlock asked and suddenly the penny dropped for John and Mycroft. 

“M-mia? Sherlock, you don’t remember me?”

Molly’s confused face disappeared and now a hurt one appeared, Sherlock hated this, shaking his head quickly he started to think about how he could fix the mistake he made. 

“No… of course not, you are a pathologist, we met on a case involving 2 identical murders but with 12 years apart from each, turned out to be poison, yet the murderer made it look like they where strangled, using their brother’s gloves to strangle both victims so he’d get blamed.”

He tried to explain, this only confused Molly more.

“Molly, he’s had a very bad accident, his memory is a little foggy.”

John suddenly stood up stepping a little bit closer, this caused the older Holmes to stand straight just out of reflects. 

“Molly…? Of course, Molly, I’m sorry love, like he said I had a hard hit to my head, clearly got confused on the names. Do you believe I remember you love?”

“Love? I don’t… I don’t understand.”

Molly sounded confused as her eyes flickered between John and Sherlock, trying to figure out what was going on. 

“Molly …you are my wife.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Wife?”

Molly pulled her hand away stepping back from Sherlock’s, the detective only looked hurt by the pull away. Sherlock’s eyes wondered to her hand seeing no wedding ring, no engagement ring, not even a tan line where they could have been. 

“Sherlock we aren’t married.”

Molly’s voice sounded almost broken as she said the words, words she never thought she’d ever had to say. 

“And Marcus? Is he okay?” 

Sherlock decided to distract everyone from this confusing moment of if he was married to Molly or not. 

“Marcus?” 

Mycroft pipped up, far as he knew Sherlock never had even met a Marcus before. 

“Yes, mine and Molly’s son.” 

“Son?”

John questioned it now. 

“How old is this son Sherlock?”

“He’s two… conceived on our sex holi- honeymoon.” 

Sherlock faced Molly now reaching out to grab her hand once more, she instantly pulled away. Her face full of hurt and anger, she couldn’t believe he’d stoop this low to humiliate her.

“Is this some joke to you? Making up stories? Telling everyone we are married and have a son? Is this you taking the piss, Sherlock?” 

She burst, unable to control it anymore, so angry that he would even joke of such a thing. 

“Mols? It’s not a joke, why would –“

“Shut up Sherlock? Seriously, what is even the name Marcus? What would even make you think I would like that name, Sherlock? Go on tell me where did we get married? Where was our honeymoon? Clearly drugged up.” 

Molly started to laugh at the end, an unnerving laugh as she didn’t know what to do with her arms, pacing the small area of the room she had, her arms waving as she spoke. Her body shaking a little, her heart racing as her breathing became flustered, the doctor had left long ago, not that anyone had noticed not wanting to be in the middle of this conversation. 

“We got married where John got married, then the Caribbean for our – “

“STOP!”

She shouted at him tears in her eyes now.

“Sick joke, stupid man.” 

Molly rushed out the room, Sherlock looking at the door which was now closing slowly, Molly long gone. His face dropped, eyes going down to his hand realising he didn’t have a tan line either. Did he really make this all up? 

“Sherlock, if this is some joke, I need to know right now.”

John spoke up after a few moments of silence, his eyes soft but his voice firm, the friends made eye contact and John could see that Sherlock wasn’t joking, that Sherlock generally thought Molly was his wife and that they had a kid together. John sighed and gently patted his friends leg out of a brief awkward comfort.


	4. Chapter 4

Molly stormed through the hospital dodging through the crowds of people, making her way back to the morgue. 

Her mind was racing and her eyes were filled with tears, pressing the lift button but instantly got frustrated by how long it was taking, letting out a sniffled huff she went for the stairs and went down them quickly. Storming into her lab, where a training lab technician was currently doing an experiment.

“Out!” 

Molly growled at him, the technician didn’t even question it, grabbing his coat and left the lab instantly. She went over to one of the worktops and leaned against it, head down as she tried to steady her breathing, but it didn’t help, she was so angry.

“How could he?” 

She decided to start cleaning up, a way to distract herself as she rants out load to an empty room, always helped when she was at university. 

“He has a goddam accident, we all worry about him for weeks and he does this. He makes up some stupid story about us being married with a son. He knows I’m in love with him, he is a selfish stupid man.” 

Grabbing a large box of unwashed beakers, taking it over to the skin as she started to wash them roughly. 

“Idiot Holmes, stupid Holmes, selfish, drugged up moron.” 

After harshly putting down the 5th beaker it mashed under her hand.

“Oh… bollocks…” 

She had cut her hand from a small shard of glass hitting the skin during the smash. Putting her hand under the tap trying to clean the wound for any possible fragments of glass in the small cut before going to grab a band-aid from the med box. She hadn’t noticed the older Holmes stood in the doorway watching the frustrated pathologist bandage herself up. He stepped into the room which made her jump, she turned to see him, frowning before focusing back on cleaning up the smashed glass.

“Miss Hooper, I think we should talk?”

“Look Mycroft, I know you have a habit of defending Sherlock, especially when he doesn’t deserve it, but I really not in the mood for your big brother excuses.”

She huffed throwing the shattered glass into the bin then continued to wash up the remaining beakers, keeping her back to the Holmes brother. Mycroft sighed a little but took another step into the room, leaning on his umbrella. 

“Miss Hooper- “

“Doctor.”

She corrected him, clearly not in a mood to let anything slide. Mycroft did half a nod and cleared his throat as he was corrected. 

“Doctor Hooper, Sherlock isn’t lying. I’ve spoken to the doctors and Sherlock, he would have told me by now if he was being dishonest and horrible. He generally thinks you two are married, he also thinks you two have a son, if this is a genuine thing, he has made up in his head the reality may be heartbreaking for him. It will take some time for him to understand what he has seen, what he has felt isn’t real. Molly, when he can go home, he wants to go home with you. I can only imagine the difficulty this situation is for you, but he needs you.” 

Molly stopped washing listening to Mycroft, she sighed a little, out of all the people Mycroft was a pretty no-nonsense type man, especially when it came to his brother, so having him come down and say this to her clearly meant Sherlock needed her. She turned to face him and saw how the older brother clearly cared for Sherlock, especially now. She nodded after a moment of silence.

“Of course, I’ll be there for him, I’m always there for him, even when he is a right selfish git.”

“Can he go home with you?”

“Yes, he can, bring some of his stuff over will you?”

Mycroft nodded and looked towards the clock on the wall.

“He’s gone to sleep now, but he will want to see you soon.”

With that Mycroft left, not wanting to engage in any more conversation than he had too. Molly was left leaning against the counter staring at the floor totally confused on how to feel.


	5. Chapter 5

Sherlock got stuck in the hospital for about 2 weeks, the doctors being concerned about the damage to his brain and the memories he had made up. When all tests came back clear and everything seemed to be perfectly fine, minus the additional memories, the doctors finally allowed Sherlock to be released back home. 

Mycroft had gathered a lot of Sherlock’s clothes and items, having them taken to Molly’s flat, which Sherlock was very insistent to going back too for the remainder of his recovery. John visited every day bringing Rosie with him a few times, the small toddler excited to see her uncle Swerly, as she called him. Sherlock interacting with the toddler in a much more loving way than he did before the accident, encouraging her to talk and even playing with her when it came to her favourite teddy. John noticed a glimmer of sadness in the detective’s eyes whenever Rosie asked for John, the realisation that his son wasn’t real at all was one of the hardest things Sherlock had to accept since the accident. 

Molly made the effort to visit Sherlock a couple evenings a week, although she still found the situation awkward, noticing every time she walked into the room his eyes lightening up just that little bit more, seeing him bite his tongue and hold back saying certain things, not something she was able to get used too just yet. Although by the end of the second week she was a bit more comfortable around him, she even came upstairs with a case for him to help her out with that she was struggling with. 

Sherlock was getting aggravated by the amount of time he was spending in this bed, eager to move around and get out of the hospital, trying to entertain himself was the biggest issue. So when the doctor finally came to him with the exciting news that he was going to be released when Molly Hooper’s shift was done, he was in the best mood he had been in for weeks, even John was shocked seeing him so cheerful. 

“What’s your plan for your first night of freedom?”

John spoke before taking a bite out of his sandwich, leaning back in the chair recovering from a night of toddler night terrors. Sherlock grabbed his cup of tea and sipped it as he narrowed his eyes at his friends’ comment. 

“Be free obviously.” 

“Of course.”

John sighed as Sherlock stuck to his sarcastic comments, he continued to chew then looked at his friend holding back for a moment. 

“You know you are always welcome to stay at mine, Rosie would love having you around.” 

Sherlock instantly shook his head, grabbing his phone so he could avoid any sentiment.

“No, Molly has her place ready for us to… I mean, for me to move into.” 

Sherlock gritted his teeth a little but shook the feelings away by distracting himself with the endless emails of unsolved cases Sherlock hadn’t done for the past week. 

“Mr. Holmes?”

Sherlock looked up to see his doctor having walked in, heading over to him with a form for him to sign, Sherlock looked down and smiled seeing Molly had already signed him out.

“Sign here and you are free to go.” 

The doctor started to ramble on about relapses and if something major happens to come back immediately. Sherlock automatically replied, ‘Okay’ to the doctor as he signed the paper and got out of bed to start getting changed into his own clothes. 

Finally, the doctor stopped rambling on, and John waited outside with Molly waiting for Sherlock to be ready. Sherlock didn’t take very long, jumping into his clothes and walking out of his hospital room, sliding on his coat and letting out a happy sigh to have it back on. He grinned at John and Molly, both looking rather amused at how excited Sherlock was to be leaving the hospital.

“Come on Sherlock, let's get a cab, I don’t want you walking too far.”

Molly spoke as they headed out the hospital, John followed and waved one down for them. Sherlock knew he’d be guided back to bed not long after they got home, but he didn’t care so much, being outside in the fresh air and going home to his and Molly’s flat felt like the best way to recover. He knew it wasn’t his flat but at the same time he couldn’t help but be happy to finally go where he thought was home. 

Molly and Sherlock bundled into the car, leaving John giving them a little wave as the cab drove off. The cab ride was silent, Sherlock watched the world outside go by enjoying the view of London. The ride wasn’t too long as Molly’s apartment wasn’t too far from the hospital. Molly paid for the cab then headed out to the front door. Sherlock following her inside and smiles as he felt the familiarities of the flat, he thought he called home for the last 2 years. The front door being shut behind him.   
Molly rushed off to the kitchen, putting down her bag and started to talk to her cat in the background. Sherlock stood in front of the door, looking around the living room memories washing over his brain. He and Molly sat on the sofa watching TV together, sharing a glass of wine, ending with them sharing a soft and gentle kiss. 

“Sherlock?” 

Sherlock jumped out of his dazed memory looking away from the sofa and looked at Molly who was now hanging her coat up by the front door, looking over him with worried eyes. He gave her a little smile taking his own coat and shoes off. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, of course, just tired, is Toby in?”

Molly nodded and frowned a little at how he took curiosity in the cat, something the detective never normally did. 

“Yes, he is in the kitchen.”

He headed over to the kitchen and went over to the cat that was sat on the kitchen side. 

“Hello, Toby, did you miss me?” 

Sherlock went to pet the cat, but Toby hissed at him. For the briefest of moments Sherlock had forgotten Toby didn’t know him, Sherlock had never lived here and the cuddles he remembers having on the sofa with this cat never happened. He pulled his hand away quickly, the cat continues to hiss until Sherlock stepped away, making him sigh. 

“Would you like tea before bed?”

Molly came in grabbing a mug from the draining board and placing it on the counter and flicking on the kettle. 

“No, I’m rather tired, I think I’m going to go to bed.” 

Sherlock gave Molly a little smile and went over to her. Looking down at her maintaining contact, Molly started to blush a little watching Sherlock give her that look a handful of men had given her in the past, the look they gave her just before kissing her. She quickly turned away to focus on the tea, Sherlock blinked and nodded briefly before heading to the bedroom door, Molly turned again watching him.

“Oh, Sherlock?”

He turned to face her, a small curious smile on his face as she called for him.

“Yes?”

“That’s um, that’s my room, your set up in the spare room.”

She pointed at the other door right by the bathroom, Sherlock looked down feeling silly and nodded. 

“Of course, sorry.” 

He cleared his throat and headed over to the spare room, looking back at Molly’s bedroom door before entering the spare room. Closing the door behind him, sitting on the edge of the bed and sighs. 

“This isn’t going to be easy…”

Sherlock mumbled to himself before flopping back onto the bed.


	6. Chapter 6

“I now pronounce you husband and wife, you may kiss the bride.” 

Sherlock turned from the man marrying him and Molly and turned to his now wife, both looking into each other’s eyes and with a simple movement Sherlock leaned in and gave Molly a kiss on her lips. The crowd behind them started to clap causing the couple to turn to face them. Sherlock and Molly holding each other as they watched all their friends and family clap and cheer at them, but that’s when he caught Sherlock’s eye.

In the middle of the aisle, Jim Moriarty stood there holding a button in his hand suggesting someone is strapped with a bomb. Sherlock instantly dove into the crowd, opening everyone’s jackets, trying to find who was strapped. By the time he got to the back, he grabbed Jim’s collar.

“Who?”

Sherlock screamed at him, Jim just started to laugh at him, Sherlock turning the criminal as he kept shaking him for an answer, now facing down the aisle, where is now wife was, he looked up at her, seeing how scared she was. 

“Sherlock…”

He voices trembled but that’s when Sherlock saw the wires, the explosives attached to her. 

“Molly, don’t move.”

Sherlock shoved Jim to one side as he bolted down the aisle, but as he ran towards Molly who just started to cry from fear of being blown up, the aisle got longer and longer, he was running towards her but getting further away. 

“Sherlock, help me.”

Jim’s laughter screeching right behind Sherlock, making the detective growl and work harder to run faster to try and beat this forever expanding aisle.

“Threeeeee…”

Jim started to count down, his voice manic and excited. 

“Molly, take it off!”

Sherlock panicked as he shouted at her trying so desperately to reach her.

“Twooooo…”

“Molly, please!”

Molly couldn’t hear him anymore, falling to the floor whimpering as she knew exactly what was going to happen next.

“One!”

“MOLLY!”

Sherlock suddenly bolted up in his bed, panting heavily in the darkness of the spare room. He runs his hand through his damp locks then instantly reaching out beside him, sighing when he realises Molly wasn’t in bed with him. He was so used to her rubbing his back when he had a nightmare, so fake rubbing his back as everyone insisted their relationship was made up in his head. 

Once he caught his breath he lay back down, eyes having focused he was staring at the ceiling for a few moments. Leaning over and grabbed his phone, looking at the time seeing it was around 3 am. 

Unlocking his phone with his thumb he then went to his photo galleries, finding the lack of photos of him and Molly, he swiped through the images he did have then sighed locking his phone again then puts it back on the small table next to his head. Closing his eyes once more he tried to get back to sleep.

 

In the morning Molly woke up to the smell of pancakes. Having been woken up by Toby to be let into her bedroom around 2 in the morning, the cat was still curled into her side which he loved waking up to every morning. 

Although, the smell of pancakes wasn’t something she was used too. Sitting up and yawning a little, before getting up and getting dressed ready for work. 

When Molly headed into the kitchen Sherlock looked up and grinned at her, he had decided to ignore the distressing nightmare he encountered the night before and focus trying to get back to reality, whatever that was, Sherlock didn’t know but he was going to try. 

“Good morning, I made pancakes and coffee, I know you have worked but nothing wrong with a decent breakfast.” 

Sherlock gave her a smile, she returned it awkwardly as she headed into the kitchen, grabbing her mug and pouring herself some of the fresh coffee. Her eyes flickered to the American style chocolate chip pancakes he was cooking for them, seeing a small plate already ready to be eaten. She couldn’t believe he knew her favourite type of breakfast, also a rarity for a breakfast. 

“Thank you… although I have to leave in 15 minutes.”

“That’s okay, these are yours.”

He smiles handing her the already cooked and still hot pancakes waving at her to sit down.

“You look nice today.”

Sherlock complimented her, something he always did since they got together, although when he did compliment her, he silently cursed himself, knowing that this wasn’t something she would be used too unlike him. Molly frowned when he did, taking the plate and sitting down at the table with her breakfast and her coffee, she decided to skip over his compliment and focus on something else.

“Try and relax today, no running around London, you are still in recovery remember.” 

Molly reminded him knowing how much he would deliberately forget this fact and overdo it simply because he was bored.

“But if you get bored please avoid wrecking my flat, no shooting the walls, no carving into my tables and defiantly no experimenting on my cat.”

Molly had to cover all grounds, not risking him doing anything to annoy the neighbours or get her landlord ringing her up for multiple damages to her flat. 

“I promise I won’t do any of that, this is my home to remember.”

Sherlock froze when he said that, he closed his eyes briefly and cleared his throat pouring the left-over batter into the pan. Molly slowed her chewing down as she heard him say that comment.

“You know I meant, now, while I recover, I mean you know.”

Sherlock tried to correct himself, he could feel how tense Molly was behind him. Being brave he turned to face her, she had only eaten one of the pancakes and already getting up to leave. 

“Okay, well, I should leave for work.” 

Sherlock glanced at the clock seeing she still had another 8 minutes left, clearly, he had made it awkward for her. Molly poured her coffee into a to go flask and went to the front door grabbing her coat. 

“Do you want me to wrap up the pancakes so you can take them with you?”

Sherlock called after her trying to break the awkwardness.

“No, I’ll see you later, don’t break anything.” 

Molly rushed out the flat coat half on balancing her bag and flask in her hands. Once the door was shut, she leaned against the wall for a second sighing at how she reacted. Shaking it off she then went downstairs and to work, leaving a confused Sherlock in the kitchen finishing off the pancakes, before putting them all on one plate and wrapping them up, placing them in the fridge. 

He sat on the dining table alone sipping his coffee mug trying to figure out what to do with himself for the day.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late upload, very busy few weeks.

The clock on the wall only read midday, Sherlock laying on the sofa staring at the ceiling, bored out of his mind, but been told to stay rested for the next week, do minimal activities and keep his stress levels low. He sighed looking at the clock once more, 12:01. 

Growling he shoved a pillow on his face aggravated by the lack of amusement. He picked up his phone and decided to text John. 

{What are you doing? SH}

He pressed send then waited a total of 12 seconds before deciding to text him again. 

{John, I’m bored, even Jeremy Kyle isn’t entertaining me, Judge Judy is predictable, and BBC News is dull. SH}

{John….}

{John!!!}

He huffed putting his phone down, looking over at the clock once more, 12:03.

“Oh, you got to be kidding me.”

A little rattle came from the kitchen, Sherlock sat up and saw Toby wonder into the living room, he has clearly been out and about minding his own business-like cats do. 

“Toby, hello, come to me.” 

Toby stopped in his tracks looking over at Sherlock, looking rather unpleased to see the detective still in his house. He continued to walk jumping on to the little coffee table, he moved to sit in the middle of it starring at Sherlock, his tail flicking. Sherlock sat up a little frowning at the cat, letting his hand reach forward to stroke the cat, Toby very quickly hissed at him, Sherlock pulled his hand back quickly. Sherlock made eye contact with the cat in front of him, clearly, the creature was not happy he was in his house. The bored detective went to reach for his coffee, but the cat once again hissed at him. 

“Toby…” 

The cat then started to lick his paw clearly trying to show Sherlock who is boss, that he isn’t welcome in this house. Sherlock decided to try his luck and went to grab his phone, once more the cat hissed at him, his paw getting ready to swat his hand away. Sherlock now confused started to sit up slowly as his eyes stayed on the cat which was clearly trying to prove his dominance. 

“Okay, this is your house, but that’s my phone.” 

He slowly went to reach for it, Toby’s paw instantly scratching his hand away, 4 long but not deep scratches now over the top of Sherlock's hand. Wincing and pulling his hand back, Sherlock now glared at the cat. Toby’s paw now on top of Sherlock’s phone, the deep green eyes of the pissed off cat starring deeply into Sherlock’s eyes. Then after a moment, the cat started to push the phone, the phone heading to the edge of the coffee table, hissing whenever Sherlock moved his hand to even try and catch it. With one last little push the phone fell to the floor, he was thankful for the carpet in the living room, so he knew his phone wouldn’t have broken or anything major.

Sherlock decided to leave the phone on the floor, for now, knowing the cat would probably rip him to pieces if he tried to pick it up. He turned back to the cat who had gone back to washing his paw. Sherlock watched him once more and put his hand out for Toby to sniff. Stopping his cleaning he gave Sherlock a ‘Really?’ look, he took one more look at his hand then turned his back to him, he went to the edge of the table, about to jump off but decided to use his back leg to knock over the mug of coffee. 

The cup spilled all over Sherlock’s leg and all over the cream carpet, Sherlock jumped up and rushed to the kitchen to find a cloth, Toby proudly walking off into Molly’s bedroom to have a nap. 

“Little Shit.” 

Sherlock growled as he cleaned up the mess quickly. Once done he saw the little stain on the carpet, he got most of it up, there was nothing else he could do, for now, he’d have to give the carpet a proper deep clean later so Molly didn’t come home to the stain. 

He flopped back on the sofa, picking up his phone and seeing no reply from John, flopping his head back on the sofa he started to think about the situation. The life he is so convinced he had with Molly, living together in this very flat, Toby liking him, the tough life of being married and a father, but of course, none of it was real. It was hard having the women he felt so in love with, so many memories with not feeling the same. The heartbreak that his son wasn’t alive broke his heart, probably the hardest thing he ever had to deal with. 

Sherlock jumped out of his mindset when there was a firm knock against his door, frowning he sat up then realised who it was. Getting up he headed over to the door seeing his friend John. 

“So, Lestrade called, he has a case for us to help with, get your coat.”

Sherlock grabbed his coat, he was no way staying here any longer than he had too, although out of everyone he was shocked John was breaking his rest rule.

“Thought I had to rest? Doctors’ orders”

“Well, I’m a doctor aren’t I, if you collapse, I know what to do.”

John gave Sherlock a grin, the detective mimicked it before grabbing his keys and closing the door behind him.


	8. Chapter 8

Sherlock walked into Scotland Yard looking around at all the familiar and unfamiliar faces. Certain people he had remembered clearly not around, or have never been around. It confused him that even simply details like this his brain made up. 

John led Sherlock into the office, who was led by Lestrade. The detective being as warm and welcome as ever as the two men came in to check out the case. Sherlock looking over the files, frowning as he struggled to get his head to focus. 

"Info?" 

Sherlock suddenly spoke, looking up at the detective who was simply staring at Sherlock, clearly he had questions. 

"Oh, well, she's 19, she works in a call centre, she seems to have a string of online lovers, only a handful she has met, she lives with her parents. Found dead by her mother, the parents are insistent this wasn't suicide, although all the signs are pointing towards it." 

Lestrade went off explaining the dead suspects, Sherlock looking at the pictures simply frowned and looked up. 

"They are right, this is murder. But I do need to see the actual body, take some tests. The body is...?" 

"St.Barts."

Sherlock sighed and nodded, he knew Molly was working, but this was a case and he was sure she wouldn't mind. 

"Don't be too sad Sherlock, get to go see the Mrs." 

Lestrade very loosely joked, although you could see instantly that the man regretted what came out of his mouth moments ago, Sherlock saw this and showed pity on the man and simply smiled and changed the subject. 

"Can we go to the crime scene?" 

Lestrade nervously rubbing the back of his neck, cleared his throat and shook his head. 

"No, we've done everything we can already, she was found in her bed, swabs and DNA tests, black light tests as well, nothing at all has come up, indicating murder." 

Sherlock nodded slowly. 

"Clearly it's someone who knows the house, knows her, maybe not on a deep level, but enough to do this"

John looked at the images and pointed out a faint hickey on the girls neck. 

"We need to see the body." 

Sherlock agreed and turned to Lestrade. 

"Thank you, we'll let you know." 

 

The two got to the morgue, Sherlock could heard Molly laughing in the distance, it made his heart warm as he heard it. Walking into the room with a smile on his face, seeing the girl of his dreams Infront of him, drinking coffee with a colleague. Although when he walked in she didn't look as pleased to see him, her smile faded and she became uncomfortable in his presence. 

John noticed this between them and decided to break the ice immediately. 

"Molly we need to see the body for the case Lestrade has given Sherlock." 

She nodded grabbing a few files of the recently bought in. 

"Do you have a name?"

"Amber Poole" 

Sherlock spoke shyly now, less confident but still had a glowing heart, just by being near her. Molly found the file and waved the two over to the other room that had the girls body in it. 

"Suicide isn't it?" 

Molly took interest in the case as she pulled back the blanket on the girls deceased body. 

"No."

"No?"

"Don't worry he hasn't said much about it, but he's certain it's murder." 

John looked over the body with Sherlock, seeing small love bites, old ones now, clearly fading. Sherlock frowned again and stood straight. 

"Have you done any tests Molly?" 

She shook her head and he then smiled with excitement.

"Brilliant, I'll need 7 test tubes, some tweezers, cotton buds and coffee. Although John can get the coffee." 

Sherlock grinned at the two of them, before getting to work. 

Molly watched him, as if none of this had happened, her friend, her Sherlock was still here and happy. She felt bad, because she couldn't imagine what he was going through. He'd made this story in his head and for him it's so real, must be heart breaking. She quickly grabbed the stuff to distract herself, knowning if she didn't she'd end up crying.

 

 

Few more hours passed, John had gone home to be with Rosie, Sherlock and Molly still working hard on the case. Although 10pm came along, Molly stood up and stretched, this catching the detectives attention. His eyes wondering on her form as she stretches her tired body. 

After a few seconds he realised he was staring and quickly looked away, focusing on the microscope, or trying too at least. Unable to help his eyes wondering back to the woman he loved and in this moment in time, lusted for. Shaking his head a little he looked back down. 

Molly saw Sherlock's face, he looked disturbed, she went over to him and put a hand on his back showing him support. Once more his eyes went up but this time they connected with her's. Looking into them beautiful big brown eyes, watching her cheeks flush red as he did and her bottom lip being nibbled on. How he just wanted to grab bee and kiss her, make love to her on this desk and tell her everything is going to be okay. 

"Sherlock?" 

He blinked a few times snapping out of his thoughts. 

"Yes?"

"Did you hear me?" 

Sherlock was the one blushing now, he was so in thought about the idea of kissing her he hadn't even heard what she said. He shook his head as he continued to blush, this of course made Molly giggle, she'd never seen the detective get so shy like this before. 

"I asked if you had found anything yet?" 

Sherlock now back to reality gave her a soft smile then went back to looking at the dozens of test tubes full of possible bits of information.

"No, not yet, this is getting rather complicated to prove."

"Well, it's late now, you are probably over worked and tired, so why don't we grab some chips, go home and come back tomorrow?" 

Molly knew that the suggestion would probably be shoved away, the idea of food and sleep wasn't on Sherlock's agenda when he was doing a case, although the man started to pack up, organising his test tubes and getting ready to leave. 

"Sounds like a good plan, grab your coat, I'll clean up in here first."

Molly looked shocked, not only is he cleaning up, he agreed to stop working on the case so he could be fresh for the mornings work. The man was the same, but so different in so many subtle ways. 

It wasn't long until Sherlock was waiting at the door with his coat on, Molly coming over with a smile and locking up the lab behind her. 

"Fish and chips for dinner it is then."


	9. Chapter 9

"You cheated on me? Am I even the father?"

"No."

"Then who is?"

"Phil Mitchell..."

And there is was the familiar theme tune of Eastenders. He never understood why Molly enjoyed this rubbish, but he wasn't going to complain about her having some downtime for once, it's not like she did it often. Although Eastenders was a poor choice, made London looks odd and unified, if you found a single street in London that was this close as the group on Eastenders Sherlock would bow down to whoever found it, now that was an amusing idea, bowing down to someone, he was certain that had been Mycrofts dream since he was a teenager. 

"Well, that was a brilliant cliff-hanger, got to wait till Monday now for the next one, not sure how I'll cope." 

Molly spoke excitedly about the ending of the episode, turning the volume down then turned to see Sherlock given her a curious look, well more confusion, this made her blush as she grabbed the vinegar for her chips they had purchased on their way home. 

"Kidding..."

Sherlock sniggered a little as he saw the embarrassment on her cheeks, he remembered seeing that for the first time when they met and he'd always found it rather adorable, not that he'd express that of course, didn't fancy dealing with a fainting Molly. 

"The show reminds me of a case we did 2 years ago." 

Sherlock begun, Molly looked at him slightly warily, she knew any memory two years ago and his accident wasn't always real. He saw the worry but he was certain this one wasn't made up. 

"You remember the case with the street murder? Basically turned into a street murder mystery party, 150 suspects, all guilty, all innocent at the same time, affairs were revealed and for some reason, they all ended up working together to hide the murderer, some without even knowing it."

"Yes! I do remember!"

Molly's worry instantly left as he recalled a case that actually happened, she grinned shifting her position on the sofa, her knees being brought up as her entire body faced the detective, small bowl of chips in her lap as she ate them slowly, Sherlock having only nibbled on a few of his before he decided he wasn't hungry. Seeing how she had turned towards him completely made him tilt his body too, he didn't want to be rude, not while he was making progress, he could only imagine how hard it was for her as well. 

"Wasn't there in the end around 7 murders? This went on for about a week, not sure how no one ran away, became a big game to everyone." 

Sherlock sniggered and nodded. 

"Yes it was fun, actually was a good case, never would have guessed it was the 13-year-old child when I first started, clever young man, its a shame he got caught, he could have given me a few chases in the future." 

Molly ate the chip and narrowed her eyes at the man's comments. 

"Shouldn't be encouraging murderers Sherlock."

"Well if there were no murders id be jobless, actually wed both be jobless." 

"People die without murder."

"And how boring are those postmortems?"

Molly sighed but with an amused smiled.

"Fine, I see your point."

Sherlock watched her, it was nice to see her relaxed around him for once since his accident he found it rather difficult to be around her, only because he felt like he was walking on broken glass. Although he knew what to do to make her smile again, when the argued in the past he could woo her into forgiveness and they would be perfectly happy once more. Not that he could do that now, or apparently he ever did. He looked at her face when he realised she'd been starring at him while he thought, making eye contact, his breath was almost taken away by the colour in her eyes, the beautiful hazel brown that twinkled perfectly under the small amount of light in the front room. Her cheeks also turning a shade darker with embarrassment as she noticed she'd been caught, not that was the first time of course. She looked him over once more before swallowing the chip that was in her mouth, placing the bowl on the small coffee table before she focused her eyes back on him, the tension between them as clear and for the first time, she could read what Sherlock was thinking, not something she was ready for, in her eyes he wasn't in love with her, he was in love with the idea of her, she was only going to be heartbroken when he finally knew the real her and he realises she isn't what he wanted at all. 

Her mind was racing a little so she decided to distract them both, try to get him out of the gooey look he was giving her, she'd never seen it on him before but she knew what it meant, also try to distract her own brain from making herself uncomfortable, she'd worked too hard to try and make it easier for Sherlock, to show him she was still his friend, no matter what. 

"So, said you lived with me in this flat? Why did you move in here, you love 221B?"

It was the first question that came to her head, although now she thought about it this may not be the best direction to go down. 

"My flat is too far away from the hospital, even John used to complain about the commute there and back, so it was a joint decision that I'd keep 221B for my cases with John, turned the lounge into an office and the bedrooms into storage rooms with whiteboards and secure safes." 

Molly nodded half relieved that was the answer, although she was trying to avoid the fact that in his head they are married.

"So, what that's yours did we place in the flat?" 

She looked around her flat trying to actually imagine some of Sherlocks stuff being part of hers. Most of his items were tat so she really couldn't imagine herself letting be laying around.

Sherlock saw Molly's face and knew what she was thinking, laughing he saw up to a little straighter as he looked around. 

"Extra beg by the door for my coat and scarf, my skull in the middle of the coffee table. My violin stand by that window, my violin next to it on the window shelf." 

He looked around some more as he tried to remember the small details.

"My chair there, my clothes in your draws and that are about it I believe, you didn't want my tat in your flat." 

She smirked as he mentioned what she just thought.

"Well, I'm not surprised you do have a lot of tat."

"Oh sure, because your random kitty plate collection is very useful hanging on the kitchen walls."

"Oi, it's a vintage collection." 

"As is my knife collection, yet you refused to let me have it."

Sherlock teased her, making her grin and playfully kick him.

"My kitty plates are decorative, your knives are dangerous."

"Not in their box, can put a glass cover over the box ad hang it up, won't hurt anyone then." 

Molly laughed and shook her head at his persistence. 

"Fine, you can have your knives! But make sure you keep them secure behind glass." 

Sherlock nodded with a proud grin, he liked getting his way, both of them laughing a little at their brief playful argument. Once silent then both looked at each other, smiles fading just a little as they realised how they briefly lost themselves in the fantasy world.

"Do you remember what happened after that case?" 

Molly now looked up frowning at Sherlock, having grabbed another chip from her bowl as they briefly went silent. Looking back at Sherlock she saw that look again, his eyes soft, his face soft, his lips pinker thank normal and his eyes full of excitement. 

"We went to the pub for a drink."

"Yes, and when I walked you home..."

She tilted her head a little, she wasn't entirely sure where he was going with this, he had walked her home but nothing more than a brief hug and slightly drunk goodbyes happened. 

"What happened when you walked me home Sherlock?" 

The detective took this moment of eye lock to lean forward just a little, his hand moving a piece of hair out of her face and behind her ear, Molly's face tilting just a tiny bit towards his touch but her eyes never left the bright blue of the man in front of her. 

"We shared our first kiss by your front door, it was raining, we were a little drunk, you pulled me into a soft kiss, got embarrassed but then I kissed you again." 

Sherlock's long fingers ever so slightly stroked Molly's cheek as the vivid memory flew through his eyes, finally being able to kiss her lip was something he wanted to do that entire night at the pub. He quickly brought himself back to the room when he noticed Molly's eyes had closed, almost like she was in pain, pulling away from a little, hand back to his own lap as he tried to work out what was going on. 

"Molly?"

She let out a shaky breath and let a tear fall down her cheek as she looked at him once more. 

"Sherlock, that never happened." 

With that realisation he ended up leaning back on the sofa once more, his hand went to his face and his eyes focused on the chips container on the table, for that second the thought of the memory being made up hadn't occurred to him. His stomach knotted as he had realised one of his fondest memories of Molly wasn't real, not even a little bit.

"Have we ever...?"

"No, never."

With that, the two of them was silent again, neither looking at the other, guilt washing over both of them. After about 30 seconds Molly couldn't cope with the silence any more, she had to get out the room. 

"I really should be going to bed." 

Sherlock let out a quiet low deep breath, as he realised she was feeling awkward again. He looked towards where she was just sat on the sofa, she was gone already, bowl and cup taken with her to the kitchen then the quiet shut of her bedroom door. 

Sherlock stood up and headed to the kitchen to tidy up, although he paused when he heard soft sobs from the other side of Molly's door. He stepped closer, his hand going over the wood. She was clearly sat against her door crying on the floor. Sherlock kneeled and rested his head against the wood, hand pressed flat against the service. 

He couldn't help her.


	10. Chapter 10

It had been just over two weeks since that night, Sherlock had been getting physically better rather quickly, with Johns observation and keeping him busy with cases whenever Rosie was at nursery or with a babysitter, Lestrade was making sure he kept the detective busy with cases as well, even the really small easy ones he knew he'd get done within an hour. Sherlock helped out as much as he could, although he did insist on going home every night, he wanted to try and make things less awkward with Molly, as since that night neither of them really spoke much other than the polite, 'Morning', 'Have a good day', comments. Whenever Sherlock got home though Molly was either at work or asleep, working double shifts most days followed by staying in her room on the one day off a week she got. 

Today he did manage to get 2 whole sentences out of her this morning, she wondered if he could stay at home for the day to keep an eye on Toby as he had been acting funny these recent weeks, when Sherlock mentioned it was probably because Sherlock was still living here she quickly changed the subject. He was starting to feel like he was just getting in her way, weeks of barely talking and her avoiding him with long shift, he didn't know what to do. 

He sighed as he slouched on the sofa, looking over at the cat who was staring out the window, clearly, a bird had caught his attention or something, as he hadn't moved in about 12 minutes. Tilting his head he analysed the fluffy cat, seeing his small eyes darting around, although after a moment of starring the cat turned to look at Sherlock, clearly, he felt the mans eyes on him. Toby didn't seem pleased that he was being watched and jumped off wondering out the room, looking all high and proud of himself. 

With a sigh, he grabbed his phone and saw a text from Molly. 

{How is he doing? MH}

He was quick to reply, as she had already been waiting a good 10 minutes, he knew she wasn't overly patient with things she was worried about, especially when it came to her cat. 

{He's fine, he's been staring at a bird outside for about 15 minutes. Mostly been sleeping. SH}

He put his phone down and got up to make another cup of tea, seeing the cat was now sat on the kitchen side licking his paw, although when he saw Sherlock he paused mid lick and narrowed his eyes as he watched him get a mug from the cupboard and flick the kettle one. Sherlock narrowed his eyes as the cat decided to watch his every movement. Ignoring him for a moment he turned his back to go to the fridge, opening it up to grab some milk, just then he heard a smash, turning he sees the cat has moved but gone back to licking his paw, his now smashed mug broken all over the floor. Sherlock sighed putting the milk back and closing the fridge door. 

"Really Toby?" 

His phone buzzed on the counter next to the bowling kettle, Sherlock quickly grabbed it before any more ideas came to the cat, he didn't fancy having to buy a new phone. 

{That's good, I guess you can leave him now see if Lestrades got a case for you. Thank you, Sherlock. MH} 

Sherlock sighed looking at the text. 

{Not a problem. SH}

Sherlock left the conversation like that, looking over at the cat who was now curled on the counter ready for another nap, shaking his head Sherlock tidied up the smashed mug before attempting to make tea once more.


	11. Chapter 11

The day had dragged for Sherlock, Toby being a trouble maker in the morning, followed by the lack of cases from Lestrade, clearly, the criminals of the world are on holiday. Moments like this he missed Moriarty, as he did entertain him in the best of ways, but of course, the country was much safer without him. 

The evening had arrived and Sherlock had bought them some pizza for dinner, he assumed Molly wouldn't be too late as she wouldn't want to leave the cat on his own for too long, he knew she'd assume Sherlock would be out. Although he got bored of waiting for her and grabbed her laptop, he had his own account on the laptop and logged in. Something he did years ago so he could continue doing his online cases while escaping the flat, especially when John was going through girlfriends like it was running out of fashion. He flickered on to the internet and searched up John's blog. He scrolled down right to the bottom, to John's very first post, post from almost 8 years ago. 

An hour went by and Sherlock was halfway through the posts, he found it fascinating reading what he was like through other peoples eyes. John posted so much and made him look human, although more than ever he felt human, he felt like a man, a man in love, a man who has embraced emotions, even if they are sometimes just a little bit shit. 

He heard a key go into the door, Molly unlocking it and opening it up, her feet heavy and movements slow, clearly she has had an exhausting day. Sherlock narrowed his head to greet Molly before going back to reading. 

"Hey, your pizza is in the oven, about 5 minutes left and some wine on the side." 

Sherlock spoke, he decided to let her do what she needed and not make a fuss, she sighed gratefully and went into the kitchen, she poured herself a glass before popping her head around the corner. 

"Do you want a glass?" 

Sherlock looked up rather surprised that she was offering. He gave her a soft smile then shook his head, she disappeared and he could hear her pull out a plate ready for her dinner. Going back to reading, having found the posts about John and Mary's wedding, made him briefly sad, he missed Mary, she was good for John and a brilliant friend to Sherlock. 

Molly came in with a glass of wine, a plate of hot pizza and had changed into some comfy joggers and a baggy T-shirt one of her ex's left behind a very long time ago. She moved to sit down next to Sherlock, curling her legs up and started to eat, letting out a small content grunt as she bit into her pizza and sipped her glass of wine, clearly something she really needed. 

"There's ice-cream in the freezer too if you fancy it, Lestrade told me the death rate today, can only imagine how busy you've been." 

Sherlock spoke as he continued to read through the blogs, scrolling up every now and then, Molly smiled finally focusing on Sherlock, leaning forward to nosey at what he was looking at on her laptop, a little shocked to see it was John's blog. 

"What you reading that for?"

Molly asked before taking another bite into her pizza, Sherlock sighed and turned to face her, letting out an amused half-laugh as he saw her stuff her face. 

"Well I've replaced my memories, and I need to know what did and didn't happen in my life the last two years, well John basically documents it, even when I supposedly date someone, so I'd assume if something happened with anyone it would be on the blog. Plus I get to see how I am in someone else's eyes, although this must be wrong a John basically describes me as some sort of hero." 

He half chuckled being a little nervous about saying that, Molly looked at him sadly rather like the fact that he wants to open up a little to her.

"Well you are a hero in a way, the number of lives you've saved, I'd say you are up there with the uniformed heroes, doctors, firemen, just unofficial and never wearing a uniform." 

She said softly looking at the screen then at Sherlock. 

"That's kind of you to say, Molly." 

He sighed and shut the computer. 

"Just wish the accident didn't happen, would make your life so much easier."

She sighed and nodded, putting the plate down and grabbed his hand, giving it a squeeze before talking. 

"Well, lifes never been easy with you Sherlock, you are complicated, annoying, intelligent man that likes chasing the most dangerous of things. You scare the crap out of me all the time because you like chasing the fire." 

The detective looked at Molly seeing that what she was saying was out of affection and not a way to try make him feel bad, squeezing back he understood what she was trying to say.

"Life would be beyond boring without you in it Sherlock, and you know that." 

She gave him a little grin which he mimicked, he kissed her hand then got up, he didn't want to make her too uncomfortable, especially as this is the first time they had properly spoken in two weeks.

"Dam right I know it, let me grab your ice cream and I will make myself a cup of tea, then lets put on Eastenders, its recorded for you."

"Oh, brilliant, can't wait to see what happens with Sharon!" 

Sherlock sniggered rolling his eyes as he headed towards the kitchen and flicked the kettle on. 

"Toby broke one of your mugs, sorry I turned my back I couldn't catch it." 

"It's alright I need to buy some new ones anyway, he's so clumsy."

"I'm starting to think he's breaking things on purpose to try to get me into trouble, always when it's her and I alone, tried breaking my phone the other week." 

"Don't be silly, he's just a cat." 

Sherlock scoffed as he leaned against the wall looking over at Molly. 

"He is a deviant cat and you know it, if he starts peeing in my shoes I will more be convinced than ever."

Molly simply laughed shaking her head as she continued to eat her pizza.

"Did you feed him?"

"Of course, I'm not going to neglect our... I mean your cat, Molly."

He quickly corrected as he poured the hot water into the mug, she came in with a small smile placing her now empty plate into the sink.

"I guess he is ours now, you've been living here long enough, roomie." 

She teasingly nudged him, he looked down at her giving her a soft smile, his eyes where glowing clearly happy about their casual interactions. He had his friend back and right now that everything he needed, to have his Molly back socialising with him. 

"Well thank you for letting me stay, you really didn't have to let me go home with you, I meant it." 

Molly put a hand on his arm looking up at him as if she had a small amount of longing in her eyes, she wanted to kiss him, she wanted to show him everything was going to be okay and whatever was going on inside his head or even hers will be figured out in time. He saw this longing, his own eyes looking deeply into hers and seeing this look, a look he knows so well, a look he's seen her give him so many times before, real or not real he wouldn't know but its a look he's been longing for since he woke up. 

His brain was racing, at this moment what did he do? Did he kiss her? Did he hold her? Did he let this very passionate silent moment slide for now and go for it in the future?

Just as he made his decision and was about to lean in and give her a kiss there was thump at the door, very quickly followed by another urgent thud. 

They both looked up before looking back at each other, the moment was truly gone but the third heavy and urgent knock on the door proved to be more important at this moment. 

"I'll get it."

Sherlock spoke as he turned quickly, whoever was behind that door must have a bloody great reason to interrupt them like this. He opened the door to be greeted by this brother, out of breath and panicked. Sherlock looked him up and down to figure out what was going on. 

"What?"

"You need to come with me... It's John..."


	12. Chapter 12

Sherlock didn’t even give Mycroft time to speak he was out the door, rushing down the stairs without even wearing any shoes, he found the first black car and assumed it was Mycroft, only to be guided into another car by his brother. Molly close behind sitting in the back of the car with Sherlock and Mycroft. 

His brother trying desperately to speak to Sherlock but he wasn't listening, all he knew was John was in trouble and he needed him, he needed to help him like John had helped Sherlock so many times before. The man who taught him to be human, to embrace the good around him to be able to see when people are trying to help and to let them in.

It wasn’t long until they reached the hospital and Sherlock went rushing ahead of everyone else, demanding the receptionist to tell him where John Watson was, within seconds a doctor came and guided him through the hospital, clearly Mycroft set out a warning to the hospital that Sherlock was coming and not going to be in the right state of mind to be patient. Following the doctor at rapid speed, everything was a blur, he had no idea where he was going he had one thing on his mind and that was to find John, to save John. He had promised Mary and he wasn’t about to break a dead woman's promise.

It wasn't long until they entered a room, it was cold and covered in silver and white, except for John, who was now laying on the table, but that's when it hit Sherlock, they where in the morgue. 

It’s as if the whole thing hit him like a bus, his ears started working again and he could hear Mycroft and Molly calling his name, trying to get him back to reality so he could listen to them. Sherlock stumbled back a little shock hitting him like thunder, Molly grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the nearest chair, getting him to sit down which wasn't a problem. Then Molly was all he could see, she was holding his face in her hands, he looked at her trying to hear what she was saying but the ringing in his ears just got louder and louder, as if something inside of him was about to burst and he couldn't control his body, he couldn't control his face, his hands, his mind. 

Very suddenly he got up and pinned the nearest doctor to the wall, having swiftly and carefully moved Molly away from him, as if his body knew what he was going to do, his brain had no say. He was angry, he could feel it boiling inside and now he needed answers, 

“Did you even try to save him?”

He shouted at the doctor who tried his best not to look terrified, Mycroft trying to push between Sherlock and the doctor pushing his brother away. Stumbling backward he turned and faced John, his hand touching his feeling that he was still warm, in his head, that meant there was hope. Without realised he started to do CPR on his best friend laying on the table in front of him. Bumping his chest before holding the man's nose, tilting his head back and blowing into his mouth, before going back to pumping on his chest.

“Sherlock…”

He heard Molly’s pleas but he didn't care, right now he didn't care, he couldn't lose, he wouldn't lose, this wasn't what was meant to happen, he couldn't lose John. 

“Sherlock!”

Mycroft grabbed him followed by a slap to his brothers face, quickly grabbing his arms so he doesn't retaliate and got him to look at him for the first time since he was at their door. 

“He’s dead… I'm sorry little brother, but he's dead.” 

Both the brothers panting a little as Sherlock stared him down, he then turned his head towards John once more, his friend, his blogger. 

“You...You were meant to protect him! You failed to protect him! Mycroft, I can never forgive you, you didn't save him you didn't fucking save him.”

Sherlock's hands now gripping Mycrofts arms and pushing his brother into a cabinet of supplies, the glass shattered and the older Holmes fell to the floor, Sherlock going over to him, kicking him in the stomach before looking around. He cried out as if he was in physical pain mixed with pure anger as he started to smash up the lab, breaking the glass and pushing everything but John on the table over. 

Molly terrified but she went to him, grabbing his face and seeing nothing but pain.

“Stop! Please… stop…” 

He did, his hands bleeding his face a mess with tears and sweat and the lab a wreck from his anger. He fell into her arms and she guided him down to kneel on the floor, her hands stroking his hair and face encouraging him to cry. His bloody hands gripping her shirt and staining it, as Sherlock lay still without shoes, without his best friend.


	13. Chapter 13

"John Watson was a strong noble man, who served his country in so many ways, he fought in war, he fought in silence. He was a man who saved so many lives in so many ways..." 

The priest went on talking through his notes, well rehearsed, well written notes. Sherlock just sat there, amongst the small crowd of people who had decided to show up to Johns funeral. His eyes on the priest but he wasn't listening, he didn't understand why they chose a religious ceremony, it's not like he had a choice, his ex army boss decided to take over, make sure the once captain got the send off they believed was best. Even Johns sister couldn't be bothered to show up, probably drunk in some alley way somewhere, oh how that sounded appealing to Sherlock right now, be unconscious with a flow of drugs pumping through his system. 

His eyes started to scan the small chapel, the decor was simple, cheat and now tatty. The love in this chapel didn't exsist but it was the cheat option, for the religious who couldn't afford what people considered the best. The military pension wasn't the best, especially as he hadn't reached pension age so the budget for the funeral was rather limited. 

Sherlock went to each person, Mrs Hudson sat in the front row, sobbing into a soggy hanky, Lestrade's arms doing his best to comfort the old woman, a woman he barely knew. Mycroft sat beside him, more of a formality than anything else, he showed now sign of sadness, only pity for his little brother, continuously glancing back at him to make sure he wasn't about to loose it again. 

Two Sargent's and a lower tiered Soldier on the other side of the chapel, all three dressed in their uniform, badges and medals included in this. Showing their proud uniforms in a formal situation, how it sickened Sherlock that they would use this moment to boast about their achievements. Before he got angry one more his eyes moved over, a young woman who John works with at the clinic, clearly crushing on the man, sobbing in the row alone, keeping to herself and almost curling into a ball in her seat. Now he felt sorrow for the young woman, genuine feelings of loss and plenty of 'what ifs' hours awaited her as she longed for the man she wanted for years, but never got, simply because she was too shy, talk about regrets. 

Now there was Molly. The girl hadn't left his side since they found out, offering him tea, cooking him food and laying in bed with him most nights, not that he was eating, or sleeping. He started to think it was more out of her own comfort, having him around as a pillow at night to soothe the night terrors of what's to come. It was very easily shown that John Watson was murdered and for the first time in his bleak life Sherlock Holmes didn't want to take a juicy case. He didn't want to know the man who killed his best friend, he just wanted to be left alone. 

Sitting right next to him at this moment, her own tears falling down her cheeks, her small hand clinging on to his for dear life, as if she was worried the next person would be Sherlock. He didn't respond, he didn't cry, he didn't speak, he was barely breathing as he sat in his row with a clinging woman to his left hand side, seeing how desperatly empty a man who was noble, kind and talented's funeral could be. 

All he could think about what the last time he saw him, simply laughing over a case, John patted him on the back and thanked him for a adventurous evening but he had to get back home to Rosie. 

Oh... Rosie...

Sherlocks heart suddenly sunk, since the death of John he hadn't thought of anyone else but how he was going to cope without his sidekick, but now he knew that didn't matter any more. A four year old girl was parentless, no mum, no dad, no-one. Now how would she ever understand. The statistics are she wound remember John when she reaches her young teens, definitely she wouldn't remember her mother, she wasn't even crawling when she lost her mother, but God did she cry and cry and cry. Took a long time for Rosie to understand her mummy song be coming back, now, how would she understand now? 

Sherlock blinked which bought him back to his current setting, now outside in the muggy fog of the Sunday afternoon, the small group surrounding the coffin that was being lowered into the ground. His eyes fixed on it, unable to look away knowing his best friend, his blogger was in that coffin and he wasn't coming back. 

He briefly closed his eyes and once opened he was in 221B. He was alone. How did he get here? 

Took him a moment to have a quick flashback of excusing himself during the wake and wondering off, ending up back at this flat, the flat he hadn't stepped back into since before his accident. Sherlock looked around and saw that everything was the same. His skull in the right place with a small layer of dust, piles of unseen cases, a empty mug of tea, half used chemistry experiments in the kitchen. The place was how he left it, before he left the flat, before his accident. 

Being back in the flat gave him two memories of the same day, one memory of him figuring out a case in this very room, getting frustrated and leaving the flat for fresh air, then the other very realistic memory of kissing Molly goodbye and leaving for work.

He then realised his hands are in fists and leaning against his table, the thought of the accident, the thought of the double life inside his head made him angry, because he didn't know. He didn't know what was real! He didn't know who was real. 

Taking some deep long breaths calming himself down to prevent himself from mashing his home. The home he made with his friend, even though neither of them really lived here any more if was still their home, the boys home. Eyes opening once more with his final breath being released his eyes got open his desk draw slightly open. Slumming into the chair he opening his up and saw his secret stash, although it wasn't well hidden in this moment of time but that wasn't a concern of Sherlock's.

He wasn't even thinking, his hands moved on their own, preparing the cocktail, mixing it up with high doses of everything he had. Preparing his arm and within seconds the substance was inside his bloodstream. He could feel if ride up his body and once it hit his brain, he was gone. Face down on the desk, passed out from the drugs.


	14. Chapter 14

“Sherlock?” 

Sherlock was looking around everywhere in the darkness towards the voice that was calling his name, although wasn’t anyone's voice it was Molly’s. So sweet, so beautiful, so relaxing to hear her speak, the nervous stutters and the dark humour mixed in with her giggle, warmed his heart to no end.

“Sherlock!”

Okay… that time was a little more stern, last time he heard her sound like that was when he broke her favourite mug, how they argued about such a thing, ending with a loving kiss and cuddles in front of a crappy movie. Sherlock never understood the joys of just sitting and watching a film, but of course, he did it so Molly would relax, she worked long hours most days and he wanted her to not be so stressed. 

“Sherlock!”

This time it was almost like a growl, he frowned looking around the black room, unable to see much past his face, he tried very hard to see Molly, he had no idea where she was coming from. 

“For fuck sake!”

Slap!

Sherlock’s eyes shot open as the woman's hand firmly slapped his face, there was no hesitation or mercy with the slap, unaware to Sherlock the doctor had to be knelt there trying to bring him to consciousness for almost an hour. He was breathing, his heart rate was low but that was enough motivation for her to try every trick under the sun. She even threw water over his head, not that did anything, he was mostly dry from that now. The detective squinted as the sun hit his eyes like lasers, the sudden throbbing of his head kicking in making him curl up in pain, grunting his displeasure of the situation. 

Molly huffed, relieved to see him awake and conscious but annoyed to have found him in this state, used stash all over the place, followed by the smell of all the cigarettes and weed that he decided to consume while high on much stronger things, although she growled when she saw that he’d been smoking much stronger stuff as well. Her frustration setting on her she knelt down again and grabbed him by the collar. 

“Mr. Holmes get up, get showered and sober yourself up!”

Sherlock looked at her then simply rolled over, back facing her now. The man curling up on the carpet, eyes scrunched closed and legs curling into his stomach as if he was trying to ease some pain. Seeing this did break Molly’s heart because she knew, she understood the pain. They had lost their friend, a big asset to their lives and someone who was basically a brother to Sherlock. Calming down she leaned forward a little and stroked the man's messy curls. 

“Please Sherl, for me.” 

Sherlock opened his eyes then, starring at the grain in the carpet for a few seconds before turning to face her, he was willing to lose someone else right now, especially Molly. He sighed before he pushed himself to sit up, head falling into his hands as his throbbing head got even worse, Molly sighed.

“Come on, shower, I’ll get you some water and food, help sober you up quicker.”

Her voice was much softer now and when Sherlock looked up at her all he could see was the same caring Molly. Worry in her eyes mixed with affection, a hint of disappointment but he was sure that was always there when she looked at him these days. He gave her a small nod and then focused on pushing himself up off the floor and stumbled towards the shower. 

 

With a long unorganised shower out the way, Sherlock came back into the kitchen, freshly washed and freshly dressed. Molly had spent her time cleaning up, getting rid of any remaining drugs as well as looking around for any more hidden ones. Unable to find any more she then focused on tidying the kitchen up a little bit, cooking him a simple English fry up with the simple food shop the man had in his flat, besides he hadn’t been living there for over a month. Mrs. Hudson always kept the bread and milk up to date though, as well as a small pack of eggs was enough to make him a coffee and some breakfast. 

He moved to sit at the dining room table, half the stuff having been put to one side so they could sit at the table. Molly glanced at him, making sure he looked alright, well the best he could for someone who took a lethal amount of illegal substances in a small period of time. 

She handed him a mug of coffee and a plate of food before sitting down in front of him with her own mug and a slice of toast with a poached egg on top. She ate in silence glancing at Sherlock every now and then to realise he isn't eating, simply nursing his coffee a little. Growing more and more annoyed Molly’s eating started to get more vicious, her knife cutting scratching against the plate until she finally lost in and stood up slamming her fork down. Swallowing her mouthful she looked down at Sherlock with a seriously pissed off face. He now sat back a little looked up at her, confused, slightly amused and a hint of attraction seeing her in such a dominant stature. 

“Yes?”

Sherlock spoke quietly, didn’t take a genius to know why she was so angry. 

“Why are you not eating? I come here, I find you almost dead on the floor, you are barely breathing Sherlock, drugs all around you, your arm is pleading but a badly misplaced fucking needle, you take an hour to wake up, god knows you could have been bloody brain dead. How would of I known, your eyes are screwed up from the drugs, your breathing and heart rate was scattered and irregular, how on earth was I meant to know you weren't dead huh? After just losing john? How selfish could you be Sherlock? John dies and you die, who am I left with? Who is Rosie left with? No mum, No dad and no uncle Sherlock! You sit there and have the bloody nerve to not even pick up your fork and try the breakfast and made you, I didn't have to make it, you know I could have just left you there, but I care about you, Sherlock! Why would you do this to me? Why?” 

Sherlock's eyes widened as Molly went on her long-winded rant, getting angrier and angrier as she spoke, although the angrier she got the more flustered she was about the situation. Sherlock stood up and put a hand on her arm which she quickly pushed away, although she stepped closer to show him she wasn’t playing about. 

“You have no idea how much it scared me! You are a selfish man! Only care about yourself!”

She was shouting now, her small hands pushing at his chest for him to move back, even though she was the one who got closer, he watched her sadly seeing how upset he had made her, was never his intention to hurt her. 

“Molly I-”

“No! You don't get to speak! You listen to me! Do you have any idea how horrible it was for me to walk in and see you like that on the floor, again! Not the first to Sherlock and I swear to fucking god Sherlock if I find you in that state one more time, then that's it! We are done! I can’t be around someone whos just going to be so selfish and fuck his life and health up in such a way. It’s not fair, I’m not watching the man I love…”

She trailed off at the end when she realised what she had said.

“...kill himself…”

That was now a breathless whisper, her eyes having caught Sherlocks. 

Molly was left panting as she looked up at Sherlock, she had seemed to gotten everything out of her, body stiff and anger fading as she made eye contact with the tall man in front of her. Sherlock was simply looking down at the woman he loved, having heard her say those words had made his heart sing in so many ways. 

His eyes darting between her eyes, hers doing the same with his, her panting not decreasing and his breathing heavied a little. Within seconds Sherlock stepped forwards one hand cupping her cheek, leaning forward and suddenly claiming her lips with his. 

The kiss took Molly’s breath away for a second but she very quickly responded, her eyes fluttering closed and any anger for the man melting away as she was pulled flush against his chest. One hand staying on her cheek and neck while the other slid around her waist, her arms sliding up his chest, one staying there while the other snaked around his neck. The kiss deepened and the detective couldn’t help but moan just a little bit. 

This was beyond familiar to Sherlock, in his head he had done this a million times over and he’d never felt more comfortable than in this moment, in the arms of his wife, kissing her was the thing he had wanted to do the most for the past few weeks, show her how much she truly meant to him, unable to say it but finally able to show her. 

Feeling the sparks and fire between them as the kiss became more and more passionate, the bit of Sherlock's stomach becoming warm and excited as he felt the closeness between them

Sherlock very gently backed Molly to the nearest wall and very gently pushed her back against it as he continued the deep and passionate kiss they where sharing. 

This although was the moment Molly snapped back to the present. She was kissing Sherlock Holmes, someone she had wanted to kiss for many years, many nights she had spent thinking and fantasising about this man, of course never having happened. She wanted nothing more for this to be real, for this to be something, but she was so scared and beyond convinced he was still so in love with the version of her he had made up in his head. Molly Holmes his wife, the woman who finally got the junkie reckless detective to settle and of course she’d love to be that woman, but she wasn’t, not right now. 

When her back hit the wall she pushed him away and shook her head.

“No more…” 

Molly was now breathless from a mindblowing kiss she ended up resting her head against his for a moment. Sherlock hiding his disappointment, he knew why Molly had stopped and he just hoped one day she would see that his memories weren't real but his feelings are. 

Sherlock moved their embrace to a hug now, something he could feel Molly needed right now and if he was going, to tell the truth, it was something he needed as well. She rested her head against his chest and sighed, breathing in deeply mostly to catch her breath but enjoying the clean smell of him as well. His lips kissing the top of her head softly. 

 

Several hours later they were both laying on Sherlock's bed, one arm loosely around her shoulder as she rested against his chest. Sherlock had eaten his breakfast and they both decided to have a laydown, exhausted from the morning's events. Laying there in silence as they loosely cuddled each other, curtains closed but the small amount of natural light fought its way through, leaving enough light in the room for them to see each other and their small movements. 

Sherlock’s fingers circling the small of Molly’s back, his mind deep in thought. Molly’s fingers fiddling with one of Sherlock’s shirt buttons as she also was deep in thought. 

The detective looked down and blinked a few times before finally breaking the silence. 

“Molly?”

His voice was soft but loud enough to catch her attention, her head shuffled up to look at his face, staying very lazily against his chest as she gave him a questioning look.

“I think we should adopt Rosie…”


	15. Chapter 15

Adopting Rosie made sense to Molly, she was her godmother, so actually, she and Sherlock were next in line to look after the little girl, but it came with so many questions and possible problems, not Rosie being around, Molly practically helped raised her after Mary died, bathed her, read her to sleep, singing to her, changed her nappy and looked after her when she was sick. She made her laugh for the first time and even encouraged the little girl to start making noises that sounded like letters, was there for her first rollover and steps, she'd seen this girl first hand take each milestone and was just as proud as any mother would be, biologically her baby girl or not. 

With a sigh, she looked over at Sherlock. The huge benefit of this was Sherlock hadn't taken a single drug since their conversation two weeks ago, but it was like he went from one addiction to another, completely obsessed and deprived himself of everything to get his goal. It took a huge amount of encouragement on Molly's end to get him to eat and sleep, trying to get the man to rest so he had a clearer head for the next day. She could see the days he was being stubborn and refused to come to bed she knew that was the days he was craving the drugs the most. He had dove right into research and planning, when he ran out of legal information he could read he started focusing on local schools, playgroups, safety statistics for each local playground, the best childrens books, the best toddler beds, anything and everything he could research to bring the best life for that little girl, he found it. Molly found it sweet that he was so dedicated, but she had to remind him they won't let him, them, have her if he wasn't stable headed. 

Another complication that arose in her mind was the fact he instantly mentioned moving into her bedroom, the couple who adopted their goddaughter. Did this mean they are now a couple? They shared a bed most nights, only so Molly could make sure he is actually sleeping and if he tries to sneak out she'd feel him move off the bed. A simple hand moving over to grab his T-shirt and pull him back to the bed. She loved this man most of her adult life, still stop her from feeling scared about this fantasy of them being a couple becoming real, but it wasn't like it was normal, he still saw her as his wife he made up in his head, that would always be a concern of hers, the day he snaps out of his own fantasy mindset and sees she's not who he thought she was. 

"Molly! I found it, the best potty training stool you can buy!" 

Sherlock suddenly shrieked from the sofa, Molly jumped despite her eyes being on the man she was lost in thought about if they were in a relationship or not. 

"Brilliant, but she is potty trained already Sherlock, she just needs a toilet seat so she doesn't fall in."

"How? She is two?"

"And eager to be independent, that includes not wanting nappies anymore."

Sherlock sighed and closes the laptop lid quite firmly.

"Fuck!"

Molly shot up and rushed to his side in seconds, taking his hands into hers and squeezes, trying to calm him down and quickly.

"I don't even know her? How am I meant to look after her!"

Her sad eyes watched over him and pulled his stiff angered body to lean against her, trying to encourage him to relax and hug her.

"Sherlock, kids change so much, especially when they are so little, even if you are raising them you have to get to know them all over again every dam week, please, it's okay, we'll sort this, it's going to take time, we need to prove we are capable to look after her."

"I just want to help..."

"I know, me too"

Her hand went over through his curls, despite the lack of showers the last few weeks his hair was always so soft. Resting her forehead against his shoulder, his own head resting against hers. They both let out a slow low breath, showing her he was calming down. 

"Any news from Mycroft? To try and get the investigation and court case moved forward."

"No, he texts me earlier telling me he was still in the boardroom with the social workers, not sure they will listen to him, unfortunately, I don't think even your brother can scare them into rushing adoption."

She looked at him with a small smile, wasn't the best joke but it made him smile. 

They stayed in this loving position for a few more moments before all the doubts rushed through Molly once more, pulling away slowly before standing up.

"Sherlock, why don't you have a shower and I will make us some lunch?" 

With a longing look and a delayed nod he then stood up slowly, now taller than the woman in front of him, giving her a smile before heading to the bathroom. 

The door closed but left unlocked, switching on the shower and let the water run for a moment. Stood in front of the mirror Sherlock looked back at himself, all he saw was a tired man, tired worried man. He didn't recognise himself anymore, shaking his head he started to take off his jacket, followed by his shirt. He looked up at his reflection once more, there he double looked, seeing a very faint lipstick mark on the patch of skin between his neck and shoulder. A small goofy smile appeared on his lips as he runs a finger over the mark. Molly had decided to wore lipstick to a meeting two days ago, there when they went to bed and settled, she kissed his shoulder. He closed his eyes and the image of kissing Molly's lips at baker street came rushing into his mind. Her hands running over his chest, her lips playing against his and that small moan that escaped her. The thought made him shiver. 

Sherlock had been so obsessed and focused on Rosie he hadn't even thought about that evening since, not because he didn't want too, but because he knew he had to control himself, he had to stay focused. All he wanted to do was kiss his wife again, show her how much she means to him in the physical act of intimacy, how much he craved it, but right now wasn't the time and he knew this, so staying focused on research, staying awake as long as possible so when it came to bedtime he was too exhausted and fell asleep, he didn't want to fall into temptation, he and Molly wasn't there yet, he didn't want to ruin what they had, what they were becoming. 

Eyes opening, he noticed his position had changed, leaning against the skin, cheeked flushed and eyes slightly darker than normal, he knew this look, mostly on other people, he hadn't seen himself look this way since he was 18. A small gulp, straightening up and continued to undress. Kicking off his trousers he heard a small plastic item slide across the floor, frowning he looked down to see one of the secret stashes he had hidden in his trouser pocket flew out across the floor, jaw clenching he bent down picking up the small cachet of cocaine. Looking at him and rolling the closed off powder between his thumb and fingers. His mouth went dry and his heart started to race. 

Another thing he hadn't thought about until now, drugs. 

His thin fingers moved to open the small bag, letting out a small puff of the power as the plastic opened up. The small cloud of powder let out a small scent, he always loved the smell of cocaine, even before he tried it as if he was born to take the drug. Looking at it, just growing tighter and tighter as the battle in his head started to cause him a headache. Take the drugs and he ruins everything, but the craving was so strong. Running a shaky hand through his hair, his eyes not coming off the packet of drugs, using all his strength not to take it. He was so absorbed in his mental battle he didn't see Molly opening the door with a towel in her hands.

"Sherlock..."

Her voice was small, scared almost, her eyes wide and her body closed off. He looked at her tears in his eyes. Opening his mouth to speak but he couldn't let anything come out, the look on her face pushed him over, that was enough to make a decision. 

With a swift movement, he poured the contents of the plastic bag into the toilet, just as quickly pressing the button and flushing the stash. 

The only noise was the toilet tank filling up, neither of them spoke, just stared at the empty clear water at the bottom of the toilet, Sherlock's eyes looking up to meet Molly's, maybe she'd believe him now, how much he loved her, how dedicated he was. Molly's eyes darted over to her friend, seeing he'd done an almost impossible thing for a drug addict. 

"Molly... I..."

"Shhh, it's okay, I'm proud of you, I'm so proud of you Sherlock."

Wrapping her arms around him, holding him tight and squeezing him. He let out a shaky breath, letting his long arms wrap around her and his face rest against her dainty shoulders. He squeezed her gently, feeling weak, he'd given up his biggest habit for her, for Rosie. 

"I'm proud of you..."


End file.
